Father/Daughter, father daughter, Incest love story, from an Incest Forum, Real Incest story, Real Family incest love story, Family Lovers
Sexual Research http://inkaboutit.homestead.com/index6.html
205 Arguments in Support of Naturism (being nude), Also The Bible supports naturism. Many Christians also are nudist. Breaking the Shame barriers. The Bible and nudity. Lust and nudity? Christianity and nudity. (Many links) http://inkaboutit.homestead.com/nature.html
INCEST: Culture taboo. Real true Incest stories. Some links have Incest stories. They say there are over 10 million people involved in incest. ALL have to keep it a major secret because of government laws. In some families, it is very good and wonderful, with lots of love and deeper love relationship then before. (Not abusive) Others, it is bad and causes conflicts. (Many links) http://inkaboutit.homestead.com/incest.html
just-another-sick-puppy
Junior Member
Posts: 3
Registered: Sep 2002
posted September 17, 2002 06:55 PM
http://www.incestboard.com/Forum/Forum1/HTML/001553.html
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Hi people, I'm so glad to have found this forum, as I have
certainly never found one like it before! The subject of Incest is fascinating
to me, mostly because I am currently engaged in an incestuous relationship with
my father. This is unfortunately a long distance relationship due to my living
away at university. I'm almost twenty, in case you were wondering.
We make up for my being away a lot by having phone-sex, and
making love as many times a day as possible when I do visit home. Mother has no
idea, but then she isn't exactly the most pleasant and amicable person in the household.
I have a younger brother and sister (15 and 16 respectively), who also have no
idea.
In order to explain to you how it all began, I wrote a story
about it (all places and names have been changed)...
All morals are relative
By Just-another-sick-puppy
Copywrite 2002
PART 1. Almost five years ago.
This is when it all began; I was just fifteen years old. My
Mom and Dad were far from having a happy marriage. In fact they tended to spend
more and more time screaming at each other than doing any other activity. Mom
screamed at everyone (still does), we couldn’t talk to her, or have a
discussion; only her opinion was ever valid, like whatever anyone else said, it
didn’t matter. At the time I was being bullied quite badly at school, but
knowing that I’d never get any emotional support from Mom, I always asked my
Dad for advice. It had been like this for as long as I remembered, since before
my bro and sis were born, when I was little more than a toddler. They hadn’t
divorced simply because of financial reasons, anything else. Mom is disabled
and cannot work, she isn’t strapped into a wheelchair or nothing but her
condition prevented her from working; It seemed very much like she was just latching
onto Dad for the money, she certainly didn’t love him.
Since I could only talk to my Dad without fear of being
screamed at, I spoke to him about everything, even when I had questions of a
sexual nature. Don’t get me wrong, Mom had told me about periods, contraception
and stuff well before I got mine, but I couldn’t discuss everything with her,
she’s very homophobic; and I had realized a long time ago that I was bisexual.
When I told Dad that I was bi, he said that he wasn’t really all that surprised,
that he’d suspected for a long time. I told him how confused I felt, being
half-straight and half-lesbian all rolled into one; he assured me that it
wasn’t entirely a bad thing because I could get the best of both worlds and had
more chance of meeting somebody nice because I have more people to pick from.
We would always have our little talks in the garage, because
it was the only time we got to talk privately without Mom listening in, he used
to go there to smoke his pipe that Mom wouldn’t let him smoke in the house (you
see only her cigarettes were allowed indoors), I hid my cigs in the toolbox,
and Dad was the only one who knew of them (he even let me smoke). During this
time, we became so much closer; I felt that I could be myself around him. He
even told me how he felt about Mom at the time, he was getting pretty depressed
at her constant whining, and he was considering having a divorce.
For about five months, we have our little ‘garage meetings’,
until the evening when one small event changed our lives, forever. It was a
particular Saturday evening when it happened, and each Saturday I used to have
a shower at about 9pm and then go to talk to Dad in his bedroom (because he did
all of the ironing, which BTW just about figures because Mom did little if anything
around the house) until 11 which is when I used to go to bed. Now, he used to
have this jug on his bedside table which he used to fill with water from the
bathroom so that he could refill the iron; do bear in mind that he was doing
ironing for five people. Anyway, this particular Saturday, I was just getting
out of the shower when he came in to refill the jug; I just carried on as
normal because we were the kind of family where everyone sees everyone else
nude and it makes no difference. I just must have been in the wrong place at
the wrong time (or the right place at the right time now I think about it
*grins *) that day. I was just about to
get the towel and dry my hair (it used to be down to my chin back then), when
Dad suddenly decided to hug me. This was nothing out of the ordinary (despite
my not being dry) so I hugged him back, what he did next was what shocked me;
he put his hand between my legs and started touching my pussy! OMG! It felt so
good that I didn’t think of backing away, I just looked up at him, giving him a
‘why the fuck are you doing that’ kind of look. He then backed off told me that
he was sorry and practically ran back into his bedroom with shame.
I stood there for several seconds in shock; I couldn’t
believe he’d just done that. This may sound strange, but I wasn’t afraid, or
even angry, just confused. My own father had just touched my pussy, and I’d
actually liked it; did this make us both sick? It just didn’t make any sense.
Then I noticed, he’d left the jug on the bathroom window ledge. I got myself
dried, brushed my teeth, and put my dressing gown on. I took the filled jug
into my Dad, trying to just act normal. He couldn’t even look me in the eye,
when I announced that I’d brought the jug in because he’d forgot it. He just
said again that he was really sorry. I told him immediately that I wasn’t about
to tell on him, and he then decided to look at me; I’d never seen him so upset,
he was almost in tears. He told me that only sick people did what he’d just
done and that if I had any common sense I would! I couldn’t believe I was
hearing this; in my eyes, all he’d done was make a dumb mistake, we could just
carry on as normal, at least that was the outline of what I told him next. He
asked me to just go and make a pot of tea, because he needed a few minutes to
think. I went downstairs and asked everyone if they’d like a cupper.
PART 2. Battling with morality.
The week went slower than normal, since last weeks little
incident; Dad and me carried on like normal and pretended that the whole stupid
event never happened. But it wasn’t the same, and never would be again. I was
almost confident that he wasn’t going to do it again, which left me relieved
yet pissed off at the same time. Part of me wanted him to, but part of me
didn’t, it was a battle of morals within my mind. I would go to bed and
masturbate, remembering how his gentle fingers had felt; then I’d kick myself
in shame and just go to sleep sulking at my own stupidity and myself. What I
didn’t understand back then was that all morals were relative, and that the law
against this type of thing was there because it does best for the vast majority
of people (or does it?).
I noticed that Dad didn’t give me as many hugs as usual, and
he made absolutely sure that he didn’t put himself in a position where he was
even slightly likely to see me naked; perhaps he was trying to avoid the memory
of what happened the other day. I could tell that it played on his conscience
too, perhaps even more than mine. I remember following him into the garage for
a cig, I didn’t want us to start ignoring each other, and besides, everything
had to look normal for everyone else’s benefit. He asked me not to follow him
around because he might do something that we’d both regret. I just told him to
get a fucking grip, he was almost like a man possessed, so consumed in guilt
for what he’d done, yet not so certain that he wouldn’t do it again. It was
then I realized it was very possible that it could happen again, no, more than
possible, perhaps even likely, or very likely. I half wanted to tell him to get
over the guilt and do it again, but at the same time I also wanted to tell him
to get the fuck away from me. If he did it again, and I didn’t stop him, could
I live with that? Could he?
Over the next couple of days, just by the way he was looking
at me, I could tell that he was going to do it again. Telling on him was still
out of the question, so I just got myself prepared for it, in fact it turned me
on although I would never have admitted to that at the time. I was still
battling my own inner morals, and so was he! Looking back on it, it seems so
ridiculous to us now, but it seemed serious enough to be life and death at the
time.
A few days later, I remember going to bed and being totally
unable to sleep. I was pissed off ‘cos I hadn’t done my French homework and was
likely to get a detention since this was the fourth time I’d not done it this
term. Mind you I usually faked a note explaining why I couldn’t do detentions
after school, and did them at lunchtime instead rather than get a load of grief
of my Mom. I did that often, but I can honestly say that I never ‘pulled a
sickie’; as we called it back then. Three thirty came round, I went the toilet
then got back into bed, I hadn’t a hope in hell of sleeping with a full
bladder. I really did NOT want to go to school the next day, just to get other
kids calling me a ‘freak of nature’ and a ‘spastic mong’ as they so frequently
did; I had no idea why they picked at me, but it was a fact of life and I just
had to get on with it. At least I was no longer attacked physically, I’d become
a very formidable opponent, and even in large groups, people thought twice
before attacking. This did not prevent them from yelling insults at me though,
and it was just one of those things that I could have done well without
recently.
I heard the toilet flush again a couple of minutes later; I
thought it was my brother getting up to get a drink (or more likely sneak down
to watch videos thinking that nobody ever noticed). So I yelled at him to ‘get
back bed and get to fucking sleep or I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’ve been watching
vids and that’s why you’re always last one up and ready in the morning’ of
course this didn’t give him any explanation as to why I happened to be awake.
Then I heard somebody come in my room; I realized from the footsteps that it
was Dad. I explained that I thought he was James getting up again. He asked me
why I couldn’t sleep, so I explained that I hadn’t done my French and that I
wasn’t tired. He told me that he didn’t blame me for not doing that particular
bit of homework, but told me that I should do it so that I didn’t have to fake
notes. He kneeled down next to my bed, and slowly slid his hand under the duvet
and rested it on my stomach. I knew then, he was going to touch me again. Every
moral fiber told me to tell him to leave, but I couldn’t, not with my pussy
tingling like it had just begun to! He then proceeded to whisper so as not to
wake Beth (who slept in the next room but was a very light sleeper), he asked
me if it was okay to touch me! Well, here was my chance to tell him to go away,
but I couldn’t, and I couldn’t exactly tell him that I really did want him to
either; so I compromised, I told him that he could if he wanted to! That way, I
wasn’t admitting that I liked it, but wasn’t pushing him away either (sneaky of
me huh?). It satisfied my moral code (sort of).
His hand slowly traced down past my belly button and towards
my pubic region. Instead of just going for it right away, he parted my legs
slightly more, giving himself better access. As his fingers came into contact
with my clit, I couldn’t help taking in a sharp breath, now I knew why I didn’t
send him away or tell on him, it felt so damn good. I was still having such a
moral battle, I couldn’t let him know how much I was enjoying it because that
would be encouragement, but no way did I have the strength within me to ask him
to stop (although I knew full well that he would’ve done if I’d’ve asked him).
He even told me that he thought that I was beautiful! He kept it up for about
fifteen minutes, and then stopped. He said sorry again, I told him that it was
okay but he just left the room. Now I had no hope of sleeping, my head was in
turmoil again and I was horny as hell (and remember that girls don’t just fall
asleep after one lot of masturbation); just fucking great!
From this time onwards, he visited my room most nights for
almost a whole year. Then out of the blue one day, he told me that he wasn’t
going to ‘abuse’ me anymore and that he only wanted to touch me one last time
(which I told him that he could and he did the following morning). What odd
ideas my Dad had at times; I told him that for starters, it wasn’t abuse, I’d
told him that I didn’t mind, and was therefore giving him consent. He told me
that he *did* consider it abuse because when it had begun, I wasn’t even
legally old enough to consent to anything, and that because he was my father,
that kind of thing shouldn’t have been on his mind in the first place. I told
him that I’d never viewed it as abuse, which in all honesty, I hadn’t; and that
just because I was fifteen when it all began, didn’t mean that he was a pedo,
after all, I was an early developer (well I must’ve been to start my periods a
couple of weeks after leaving junior school).
For a long time, we both thought that this was case closed,
little did we know what the future had in store for us…
PART 3. Two years later.
At eighteen I was doing the second year of my A-Levels at
college (for those of you who don’t know what an A-Level is, I’ll tell you that
it’s a qualification that we need in England to get to University). I’d made
lots of new mates, and went to the pub with Rachel at lunchtimes for
conversation, and several games of pool. The lecturers didn’t really mind, but
they didn’t like us to get pissed before going into class (and we were all a
bit guilty of that one).
I was still close to my Dad despite all that had happened
all that time ago, the past was the past and I just wanted to get on with the
future. Sometimes I really missed the way he used to touch me, I was glad he’d
stopped, and then I wasn’t.
One night, Mom went to bed early ‘cos she wasn’t feeling
very well, James and Beth had to be up early ‘cos they were going to the cinema
with the boy from up the road; so Dad and me decided to stay down and watch
Star Trek; The Wrath of Kahn, since it was my fave ’Trek movie. I’d seen it
half a million times before but that made no difference because I loved it
anyway and anything was better than going to bed while not being tired and
being unable to sleep.
Dad asked me how I was doing at college, and how I thought
my re-sit exams were going to go (I’d bodged a couple of modules and had to
retake them). I told him all about college, then we began to watch the movie,
which we ended up talking through! By the end of it, he made us a cup of tea
and then we carried on talking, mostly debating who was sexier out of Seven of
Nine and B’Elanna Torres from Star Trek; Voyager (I said Lt Torres!)! He just
gave me a funny look, then asked me in a very serious tone if I thought that
him ‘messing with me’ had made me more gay that I would have been otherwise. I
told him not to be so silly, I didn’t have a gender preference before and I
didn’t now. (Pity Mom is such a homophobic jerk! I should’ve been able to tell
her about my sexual preferences!)
He told me that he was still feeling guilty for doing it in
the first place, but that at the time he couldn’t help it; he was confused,
lonely and with a nonexistent sex life (him and Mom hadn’t done it in months at
the time), so he’d turned to me. He asked me about my feelings about it, since
at the time I was only giving him neutral ‘non-answers’. I told him that I used
to enjoy it but feel really guilty afterwards because I knew that it was
against the law. He said that he suspected, no, not suspected, he knew that
that was the case, because if I really didn’t like it, I would’ve told on him.
I then owned up to almost waiting for him to come in some nights and actually
looking forward to it, and that that was the reason why I never considered it
as abuse.
At this point the memories were starting to turn me on, and
I told myself not to be so daft, we couldn’t start doing stuff again; we just
couldn’t, it was so NOT appropriate! He must’ve been feeling the same thing
because he asked me if I’d still consider it morally wrong now. To which I
replied before thinking ‘All morals are relative’. We simply looked at each
other for several seconds, when he asked me what I meant, I told him that doing
something that’s fun and doesn’t cause injury to anyone is only wrong if viewed
from the standardized moral point of view (meaning the legal system), but isn’t
necessarily wrong for the people in question if seen from their point of view.
He just sat there stunned for almost a minute! Then asked me if I thought that
it might be right for us. I told him that I wasn’t sure, but we could try it
out. I wasn’t going to deny my feelings any more, I loved my Dad and not in
just the platonic sense of the word from now on! He could masturbate me, and
I’d jack him off, we couldn’t go all the way though, I was intent on losing my
virginity outside of the family, like when I got to university. At this point I
was never planning on actually ever having sex with him.
This particular day though, when he first touched me after
two entire years, I let him know exactly how good it felt. I felt like I was on
the brink of an orgasm when he pushed two of his fingers into my pussy and
started moving them around inside! How the hell had he managed to locate my
G-spot so fast? Was mine in the same place as Mom’s? At this point I felt too
good to care, his finger fucking was just keeping me on the brink of oblivion!
This was just like WOW! I could feel the biggest orgasm ever building up; it
was to be the first time I’d come at the hands of anyone other than myself.
When I finally came, like two minutes later, I must’ve screamed a bit (or more
like a *lot*) louder than I thought, ‘cos James came downstairs and asked ‘who
was fucking screaming and why’, ‘cos he’d just been woken up. I told him that
I’d stubbed my little toe and that there was nothing to worry about. Dad was on
the verge of laughing as James disappeared back upstairs. He told me that he loved
my explanation. I replied swiftly that telling him the *real* reason wasn’t
exactly a good idea. We both giggled.
We cuddled for a couple of minutes then I decided to take
care of his boner, yup, this was the first time that I’d ever dealt out a
hand-job as well! What an interesting evening this was turning out to be! It
might sound odd that I’d not had sexual contact with anyone else, but then I
wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who went sleeping around. At first I was a bit
surprised at the size of his cock, I’d never seen one erect before and to me it
looked *huge* (about 7 inches so in reality it’s just a bit bigger than
average). It only took about two minutes before he came, it’s a good job he was
quieter than me, otherwise James would’ve been back down *demanding* to know
what was going on.
We carried on ‘playing’ in this manner for quite a while,
and then things changed when I got to university…
PART 4. All the way!
When I first got to Uni, I missed Dad a lot, because I now
only got to talk to him three times a week because we didn’t want whacking
mobile phone bills, although we’d both got good deals from Vodafone. He
couldn’t exactly come all the way up to Edinborough to see me either since the
entire family lived in Derbyshire, and hardly went much further than Cheshire
or Staffordshire for anything, even shopping excursions (which were rare).
When we did talk on the phone, we talked for a couple of
hours. I had good flat mates to talk about and I often went clubbing and
drinking with them. That is until Bonfire night when I made best friends with
Greg, Rich and Emily, after that I spent most of my time with them, and on
video-games consoles or at the university pub. So Dad and me always had plenty
to talk about (or rather I did).
Over the months I was away, I turned nineteen, and had my
first boyfriend Ian, who I was seeing shortly before Christmas, he was a real
hunk. Even while I was going out with him, I had occasional phone sex with Dad;
yet I never saw it as cheating, but it was. Dad didn’t mind me seeing whoever I
liked, but Ian certainly wasn’t aware of what was going on between Dad and me.
Shortly before Easter, I lost my virginity to Ian, and had
what most people would describe as a normal sex life. Sex was fun with Ian, and
he was a considerate lover, but somehow something wasn’t right, it was almost
as if something was missing.
During the Easter holidays, I went home. Dad knew that I’d
had sex with Ian, and said that he appeared to be a nice bloke, and that if I
was happy, he was happy. My having sex with Ian didn’t stop us from having fun
though!
After five days of being at home, it was starting to feel a
bit ridiculous simply having ‘wanking sessions’ with Dad, since I now knew what
sex was like, and loved it! He asked me if I wanted to do it with him; of
course I said yes. It didn’t feel like such a huge decision, not now; it was
time to get rid of the guilt, time to say 'stuff what society thinks, I want to
make love to him'. Our first time was an amusing disaster; I was ready to go
and didn’t need much to get me super excited, he was in that much of a rush it
took him three times to put the condom on properly *sighs at the memory*, then
shot off in less than a minute of being inside me. Despite all that, this first
time holds a very special place in my heart; we admitted our undying love for
each other just as he was completely inside me, we were joined as one. This was
what was missing in my sex with Ian; love.
For the rest of the holiday, we screwed at every opportunity
we got, we even managed to engineer a couple of opportunities when I suggested
that James and Beth go shopping with Mom rather than me, then there’d be two
people to help rather than one. I made the excuse, as I wanted to play on my
PSone. *Hahahahaha* little did they know!
Ian didn’t ring me all holiday, so I dumped him and told him
that if he was only interested in my pussy he could look elsewhere! When I got
back I discovered that he’d been sleeping with several other girls anyway, so
much for *that* relationship! Why had I wasted my virginity on such a jerk, if
only I'd lost it to my Dad, it would've meant so much to both of us.
Dad and me still make love whenever possible, we try for
twice a day while I’m visiting home. I’d love to say that the entire experience
has taught us both a lot, that no matter what society thinks; if you love
someone, go for it! Once James and Beth have left school, he’s going to divorce
Mom (at long last, I’ve seen it coming off for years)! The rest of the family
has no idea, nobody will even know of the divorce until James leaves school in
two years. They’ll never know that Dad and me are lovers. We will both find
other people to go out with, and still remain special to each other. It seems
hard to believe that we’ve come this far, from that day almost five years ago
when he made the first move in the bathroom.
We know that most people would be ready to condemn us for
being ‘sick’ or ‘perverted’, but this is because they haven’t realised that
there's nothing wrong with expressing your love for somebody in any way that
you see fit as long as everything is consentual.
-()-{}-[]-()-{}-[]-()-{}-[]-()-{}-[]-()-{}-[]-()-{}-[]
Well, I hope you liked my story! I'm glad that I can at last
share this wonderful experience with like-minded people who won't say 'that's
sick!' or something along similar lines. I hope that literary skills are
adequate (they should be, I'm a regular on the Godawful Fanfiction Messageboard
under a different alias, so I *should* know how to write) enough to get my
message across, this is the first story I've *ever* written! I know, not wise
to write ones first story with a topic so close to home (no pun intended). My
own constructive criticism tells me that I should've been more explicit in the
storytelling.
Getting back on-topic for the board, have any of you ended
up falling in love with a family member under similar circumstances? If so did
you go through the same process of learning not to feel guilty about doing
something that you both enjoy?
Any thoughts, comments or questions are welcome,
Just-another-sick-puppy
]
just-another-sick-puppy
Junior Member
Posts: 3
Registered: Sep 2002
posted September
17, 2002 11:13 PM
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Thanx 4 the replies,
To sweet28guy,
Yes, I still have loads of fun with my Dad. I can't imagine
it any other way now! Pity sister is so anti-incest (not to mention straight) .
To b4rry,
Just spent ages rummaging round old threads after I posted
my story, I am so relieved that there are so many others who have similar
experiences. I can't express how elated I feel.
First sick puppy am I? *LOL* I had to think of an
alternative alias, and quick; I couldn't wait to post here, but at the same
time didn't want to be pointed out as being here by other regulars of the
boards I visit (I got a shining reputation).
General comments;
I wrote my story actually a couple of weeks before finding
this site, and it seemed so fitting to post it here. You will see me post here
regularly from now on. I will also try not to drag too many ancient threads up
to the top of the list, I know that I've done that a few times at GAFF.
thanx ppl,
Just-another-sick-puppy
This page was last updated on: April 22, 2003
